


Contrasts Of Hospital Practice

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Barebacking, Costumes, M/M, Nurses, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 19:53:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2321366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For eponinipanini, as the 2k giveaway prize. Joly has a long day at work, and coming home he experiences a very different sort of hospital practice. Porn toward the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contrasts Of Hospital Practice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpiltWords](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiltWords/gifts).



Joly's shoulders are aching, and his hands hurt for the sake of cold and probably having been scrubbed at a _little_ too vigorously as he'd left. His temples hurt, and he feels a discomfiting thickness in his throat, and although his nose is not yet blocked at all he worries he might have a cold coming on.

Joly  _despises_ colds. 

He grasps his coat from his locker, and realizes it is not his. This morning, he must have picked up Bossuet's matching one from the Musain as he'd gone, for this is far broader than he is at the shoulders, and it's certainly overlarge.

Joly looks guiltily out of the window, at the puddles all down the street and the soaked flagstones. Bossuet must have been  _soaked through_ walking to school this afternoon. Poor fellow. 

He begins to walk down the street, huddled in his coat - tomorrow morning he'll take it back and apologize profusely, and buy his good friend a beer or five come the afternoon. For now, he just wants to go home, and see Jehan, settle in bed and read for a time before  _finally_ going to sleep. Tomorrow is a free day, at least.

His hands shake as he fumbles at the door, pushing his key into the lock and doing his best to unlock it. He drops his key, but as he leans to pick it up the door opens, and Jehan looks at him, holding Jubilee in his arms.

Jubilee is, of course, a long-haired Maine Coon with wide, blue eyes. In Joly's defence, the name had been Jehan's choice.

"Cold, Guillaume?" He asks in his sweet, serene voice, and already Joly feels a little of the tension leak from his shoulders at the sound. Jehan always calls Joly Guillaume - the others, when first names are used, will call him "Guy", but not Jehan. It suits him, Joly supposes, to have that little bit of formality in the forename.

"Un petit peu." He admits, and he steps inside. Jubilee makes her way from Jehan's hold to stand on Joly's shoulders, and she begins to purr, a loud sound vibrating strongly from her body as she butts her head against his cheek. Joly smiles despite himself, reaching up and stroking over her face and scratching her ears before dropping her down on the ground.

"I ran you a bath." Jehan says softly, and he reaches out, slender fingers working to undo the other man's shirt. "Lavender and rose." Joly lets out a deep groan at the idea, leaning into the other's hands.

"Thank you." He says immediately, and Jehan smiles at him with warmth on his lips, pushing the other's shirt and Bossuet's jacket from his shoulders to throw both of them aside. "Join me?"

"Alright." Jehan says sweetly, and he runs the flats of his palms over the other man's chest, and then he undoes the other man's trousers too. "Shoes off. These off." He moves away, and as Joly undresses further, he hears music begin - a band Jehan has discovered called Postmodern Jukebox, appealing to Jehan's love of modernity and vintage intertwined.

He smiles as he moves naked into the bathroom, and Jehan is removing his own clothes, thin layer following each next thin layer until he's naked too, all clear skin despite Bahorel's efforts to convince the other man of having  _one_ tattoo at least. 

Joly moves into the bath first - it's a large thing, deep and old-fashioned and claw-footed, and it had taken an  _obscene_ amount of effort to get it into their apartment, but even Joly would now admit the effort was most certainly worth it. He settles slowly into the bath and Jehan follows him, leaning back against his chest. 

Joly relaxes, his eyes dropping closed, and Jehan selects a book from the side, beginning to read aloud. It's The Hitchhiker's Guide, and Joly lets the other man's voice wash over him, relaxing completely. The English is difficult to understand in places, but Jehan's voice sounds so  _charming_ in the lilt of new sounds that Joly doesn't mind at all. 

After all, a few lost words here and there were hardly worth interrupting Jehan's lovely rhythm.

They stay in the bath until the water is cold around them, and then Jehan sets the water to drain, standing up and pulling a towel from the rack. "You don't have to." Joly protests when Jehan begins to dry him off, and Jehan hums.

"No." He agrees warmly enough, and then adds, "But I want to." His hands are so gentle on Joly's skin, and with that they both put on pyjamas, settling in the kitchen. Joly sets about cooking dinner - nothing complicated, just a quick bean-sprout stir-fry with some pasta to join it.

"How was class today?" Joly asks, and Jehan sprawls in his seat, playing with his own hair and beginning to plait the long locks together. How he manages to do it so neatly without a brush is beyond Joly, frankly - Enjolras needs a brush and two helpers to get his own looking  _half_ as proper. 

"It was as it often is." Jehan says - it's not evasive, Joly knows, so much as it's utilitarian. Jehan doesn't often see the point in going on about a subject of little conversational value, unless it's suitable for waxing poetic about. "I met a jewel beetle on the way home, though. It was on the Metro."

"Green?" Joly asks.

"Iridescently so." Jehan agrees, and when Jubilee jumps up onto the table he reaches out and begins to stroke over her spine, smiling at her with the tender expression he reserves only for animals. He is affectionate, fond, soft-hearted and yet courageous.

He sets their bowls on the table, and they eat in companionable silence, Jehan's feet moving to play over Joly's from their places settled across from each other. His toes are cold on Joly's skin, but Joly doesn't mind much at all: it's still contact, and he wants for contact at the moment.

"Let's sleep in tomorrow." Joly says, and he reaches out, sliding his hand over Jehan's and interlinking their fingers. "Let's sleep in, and not get out of bed 'til ten o'clock." Good God, he thinks inwardly. When did it become "until" ten o'clock, as if that was terribly late?

Jehan smiles at him. "Until eleven." He argues, and Joly lets out a quiet laugh, though inwardly he's relatively certain he's no longer capable of staying in bed that late.

"Yes. Alright, eleven."

"And you'll return Bossuet's coat." Jehan says, amused. Joly rubs the back of his neck, feeling pink flush to his cheeks.

"Ah. You noticed that?" Joly asks, and Jehan laughs, and the sound is beautiful. Joly is smiling as he looks at the other man, despite his embarrassment.

"L'Aigle is twice your size, Guillaume." Jehan points out in a not unreasonable tone. Jubilee sprawls across the table after being gently pushed away from Jehan's bowl a third time, and Joly curls his fingers behind her ears. "I imagine he was terribly soaked today."

"Yeah." Joly admits, and then he stands, taking their empty bowls and dropping them into the sink. Jehan stands, and then he moves forwards, putting his body against Joly's back and wrapping his hands slowly around the other man's waist; he has to stand on his tip-toes in order to put his square chin on the other man's shoulder.

"Bed?" Jehan asks sweetly, and he leans in slightly, dragging his lips over the back of Joly's neck, and the doctor lets out a short, quiet noise, leaning back into the other's mouth. He closes his eyes, and he feels more relaxed after the bath, muscles having been well-soaked in the heated water.

"Bed." Joly agrees in a low voice, and his hands slide over the other man's, thumbs stroking over the sides of them.

"Good." Jehan murmurs, and he pats Joly's lower back affectionately. "I'll be in in a moment - I just need to put some things away." Joly nods easily enough, and with that he moves away, brushing his teeth and stripping off his pyjamas. He slides into bed naked, and yes, for all the neatly made-up kitchen is Joly's space, dynamic and easy to cook in, well-organized, the bedroom is Jehan's space.

The sheets are sleek Egyptian cotton, and atop them run three or four mismatched blankets, a thick knitted quilt Bahorel had made laid at the foot of the bed, neatly folded. Their book collections are mixed on the shelves, murder mysteries and medical texts intermingling with poetry compendiums and leatherbound Dantes and Miltons, and the shelves themselves were made of spare wood in an afternoon Grantaire had off.

Photographs are all over the space above the bed - photographs Jehan had taken, of them together, of Bossuet half-asleep with Jubilee curled around his neck as an obscene scarf, Feuilly and Courfeyrac each with one arm in Enjolras' red coat, laughing, Enjolras on Combeferre's shoulders and flapping his arms trying to get down, Grantaire on the floor with Cosette's foot on his chest to pin him there, Marius Pontmercy tangled in furniture on top of poor, poor Bossuet, Bahorel and Jehan arm-wrestling (Joly had taken that one)...

There must be hundreds all pinned up on the wall, and it's nice to look up at them, some days. It fills Joly with a sense of pleasant warmth in his chest - friendship, companionship.

He moves to stand, looking up at the photographs above the bed and running his fingers over the photo paper, thoughtful.

"Oh, Monsieur Joly! You're out of bed again!" Joly turns, and he stares at Jehan for a moment - Jehan is in a white nurse's uniform, and it hugs his body tightly. It's very high-quality for a costume, and Joly wonders for a second where he'd bought it - or perhaps he'd made it?

"Oh, so I am." He says, and he grins a little; it's rare that they play games like this, and though they've done this _particular_ roleplay before, it's never been with such a _wonderful_ nurse's dress on the other's body. "My apologies, nurse. Perhaps you should help me back?"

"Perhaps I should." Jehan says, and then he moves forwards, pulling the sheet back and gesturing for the other man to get into bed again. "Ought I offer you some _incentive_ , Monsieur Joly, to obey the doctor's orders?" Jehan asks, and he grins at Joly.

Joly feels heat rise in his cheeks despite himself, and his mouth goes dry as he looks at Jehan, realizing that the other man has now glossed his lips in pink. It's charming, wonderful, and Joly wants to press his lips to Jehan's and taste the gloss under his own mouth.

"Perhaps you ought." Jehan moves to slide and sit on the side of Joly's bed, and he looks at Joly innocently. After a moment, he reaches out, and he slides his hand over Joly's chest, using the flat of his palm to do so.

"This is so unprofessional." He whispers, and Joly will never get over how tremendous an actor Jean Jehan Prouvaire can be when he truly wants to be. He looks _ashamed_ , and a little scared, and he's putting on an expression of such plain and obvious _want_ that Joly is this far away from wriggling under him.

"You're just looking after a patient." Joly returns, his tone wheedling, and Jehan flushes a sweet, pretty pink as his hand grasps the other man's cock. His grip is tight around Joly, and Joly lets out a choked little gasp as he arches into it, thrusting his hips up.

"Patient exhibiting outward signs of arousal." Jehan whispers. "Vasodilation, flush to the cheeks and the neck, blood pooling in the extremities: the patient's nipples are hard."

"Shut up." Joly says, and he pulls Jehan down by the collar of his uniform, kissing him hard on the mouth and leaning up and into the kiss as Jehan's lips part for him; the gloss tastes like cherries. "Want you."

"But- but, Monsieur J- _aah_ -" Jehan's breathy whimper goes right through him as Joly reaches under the short dress, grasping at Jehan's cock. He wears no underwear, and Joly feels the wetness at the back of his balls, feels how he's prepped himself. " _Please_ , Monsieur-"

"Jehan, come on, just- get-" Jehan slides into Joly's lap, spreading his thighs and curling his hand around Joly's cock again, and Joly lets out a choked little noise. He lines Joly up and then eases himself down, and he lets out a whine of sound. " _Slut._ " Joly whispers, less for the profanity and more for the way Jehan reacts, arching his back and letting out a loud moan.

He thrusts himself down on Joly, clenching tightly around him as he moves, and he's wet and hot and Joly is left choking out little noises, grasping tightly at the meat of the other's thighs. When he comes he closes his eyes shut, and then Jehan rapidly wriggles out of the dress and throws it aside before chasing his own orgasm.

"Didn't want to stain the fabric?" Joly asks, a minute or so after Jehan has stained his chest, and Jehan flushes slightly.

"It did take some time to put together, Guillaume." He admits. "And Grantaire gave me a terrible amount of help - I should hate to ruin it." Joly laughs, and he pulls Jehan down for a kiss and grasps blindly for a tissue from the bedside cabinet, wiping their bellies.

"Understandable." Joly murmurs. "Now, nurse, might we sleep?" Jehan smiles at him, pressing his body against the older man's and pulling two blankets over their heads.

"Oh, Monsieur Joly, I think that is a very good idea."

 


End file.
